


Can't Say It

by sasha_b



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Multi, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane can't say <i>I love you.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Say It

**Author's Note:**

> for a prompt at TWD Kinkmeme on Livejournal.

Shane watches Lori and Rick talking, her long hair swinging in the slight wind. The annual Sherriff’s picnic is underway – barbeque smoke and the scent of spilled beer filling his throat and he slugs back the Henie he’s holding, apparently someone’s idea of high class. He doesn’t care; beer is beer and he lets his eyes follow Lori and Rick, their hands clasped, faces turned toward one another, smile on Rick’s face broader than any damn thing Shane’s ever seen.

He stands, joints stiff in his clean uniform, gun holstered, and drinks the rest of the beer down quick, his throat bobbing with the motions. Crushing the can he finds another one and pops the top.

“Walsh,” one of his fellows nods at him and he nods back, not remembering the other man’s name. It doesn’t matter anyway; the only names that matter are _Lori_ and _Rick_ and it would be better if they were actually _Lori and Rick and Shane_.

But he’s never been able to admit to that desire, and since that’s the case, nothing’s gonna fucking happen, is it?

He turns and strides away from the group, families and other officers and coworkers fading to the background, warm summer heat making him sweat, his curly thick hair – his crowning glory, after all – damp and sticky and he swears and drains his beer (fourth, fifth?) and throws the empty to the side. 

Rick finds him later, sitting on a flat rock at the edge of the abandoned quarry – weird place for a national park – chucking stones off into the air, collar unbuttoned, gun unholstered and laying next to him, boots unlaced. A crooked snarl comes and goes; it’s as though he can’t control himself.

He laughs as Rick plops down next to him; that’s the damn truth. The sun hits the tops of both of their heads and Rick hands Shane another drink and he opens it and sucks half of it down.

Silence.

Shane throws another rock out into the open – clouds scudding by, birds and the sounds of daytime, happy time, party time echoing in his ears, aching and annoying.

“What are you doing, Shane?”

“Sitting. What are you doing? Where’s Lori?” Shane’s voice is slurring. He sighs when the breeze lifts his hair from off his forehead, the tight fitting Sheriff’s uniform sweaty under the armpits and at the backs of his knees. He brushes a hand over his gun, the metal of the weapon hot from the blazing sun that’s baking his brain and bringing thoughts he doesn’t want.

“She’s back at the park. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, brother. Why you askin’?” He laughs and chucks another rock and Rick snatches at his arm, forcing Shane to turn and look at him.

“Talk to me. You’ve been weird for a while now, Shane, and I’m starting to think I’ve got something to do with it. Like I’ve pissed you off, or something.”

He lets go of Shane’s arm and deflates, his blue eyes darting to the lake at the bottom of the quarry. Shane opens and shuts his mouth, a rusty squeak the only sound he’s capable of.

A hawk flies by them both at eye level, and Shane suddenly thinks _I love you. I love her, and I love you, and I’m lost._

He says, “We’re fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, brother.”

Rick isn’t looking at him; he’s watching the predatory bird search for its lunch. Shane snorts and rubs his head with his right hand, the curls sticking wetly to his fingers, the beer he’s drunk making him just this side of dangerous. He swallows, the words on the tip of his tongue, the years spent with this man and his woman and at their sides and in their homes and they won’t leave his heart alone.

He drops his hand to his lap and bites the inside of his cheek till he can taste the copper tang.

“We’re fine, Rick. I’m just…everything’s cool, man.” He smiles brightly and wavers a bit as he stands, his eyes watering from the drink and the wind, hand sticking out to help Rick to his feet.

He tugs and Rick is in his face, his mouth twisted in worry, eyes shining like beacons of hope that Shane is sucked in by, church and promises of love and devotion and anything that’s ever been shown to be happy and wonderful and he licks his dry lips and laughs, nervously, his back sweaty now. Their hands are gripped together, a tight clutching of fingers that has his heart slamming, his blood quick and thin from the beer.

Rick pulls Shane to him and hugs him one armed, holding Shane’s hand with the other.

“Nothing’s gonna change,” he whispers into Shane’s ear. “There’s still just you and me, Shane.”

Shane jerks and allows Rick to embrace him, his skin prickling with the contact – he’s seen this man in every way and every state that anyone can see somebody and yet being touched in this moment, like this – he blinks back wetness and squeezes Rick’s hand, not the guy grip he’s used to, but something that’s gentle and simple and then he pounds on Rick’s back with his other hand, pulling away from the hug that’s _too_ much. He smiles, false and big and it does not light his dark eyes.

“’m not worried,” he says through his clenched teeth. “She loves you. You deserve to be happy. Congrats, brother. I am happy for you.”

_I am alone._

Rick’s answering smile makes the burn in Shane’s chest far, far worse.

“Let’s get back to the shindig, huh? I’m sure there’s a beer or three you haven’t drunk,” Rick jokes and leaps down off the flat shale they’ve been standing on. Shane bends over and reholsters his gun, the weight of it familiar and a distraction from the hated emotion that is circling in his head. 

He is a direct man, not shy about asking for what he wants. But this one particular want…fuck.

_I love you. I love you both._

He’ll never say it, no matter what.

He trails Rick back to the park proper, picking up another drink – the hiss of the top being popped soothing his frayed brain and he works up a smile for Lori, who joins them at the edge of the softball diamond. She wraps her hand around Shane’s bicep and laughs up into his eyes and Shane feels something break inside, even with Rick at his left as his fiancé stands close enough to allow her hair to whip into Shane’s face, the smell of her shampoo a dream he can’t forget.

Rick’s mouth is curved slightly and he knocks his elbow into Shane’s when Shane looks at him, Lori having walked off, one of her chick friends having shouted at her about something. The sun lights on her long ponytail and Shane can feel the warmth of Rick’s body next to his and he curses life and his existence and his choices and his inability for the hundredth time.


End file.
